


Same Love

by GrahamsLexa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A bit of LGBTQ+ positivity I guess?, Canon Gay Character, First time!!, Gay, Gay For You, Gay Male Character, Gay Rights, I cut the smut off but better be safe than sorry, I love him, M/M, Trigger warning for character death, Trigger warning for homophobia, Trigger warning for people die, Use of alcohol did I mention that, Victor Nikiforov has issues too, Victor learns that being himself is beautiful, Victor realizes hes a huge homo, Victor's first love, and its beautiful, i dont know why i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9264380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrahamsLexa/pseuds/GrahamsLexa
Summary: Victor realizes that being gay isn't wrong, a lot of stuff happens along the way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I OWN ANYTHING BUT MAN I WISH I DID

Viktor had always known he was different.  
Somehow, some way, maybe not as noticeable as other strange things could be. But he definitely wasn't part of the average.  
He wasn't sure of when exactly was that he realized, because it was something that sort of grew with him. Like a shadow of himself that he had to live next to, and sometimes he wondered why the shadow refused to either get in or disappear.  
But he did remember when was the first time that he was told that, whatever that shadow was, could be up to no good. 

He was 10 years old, the thick snow of Saint Petersburg had decided to be specially dense that morning.  
As usual in these conditions, his parents would stay inside with him. His mother was in the kitchen serving eggs with slices of Kolbasa and the smell of his father's black tea filled the room deliciously.  
Alexei Nikiforov switched channels vigorously, and the TV flashed momentarily to the American channel.  
What they saw was game changing, at least for Viktor.  
"This freaks are back again, pushing their destructive ideologies down normal people's throats." He scoffed, taking the most bitter sip of tea Viktor had ever seen someone take.  
He watched the screen with attention, men and women marching together, holding signs with messages for freedom and love. Two guys in the front stopped, sharing a kiss for the cameras. Viktor was curious.  
"I wonder why they haven't put bullets in their heads to end this madness for once." His father's words were fierce, full of an unjustified anger Viktor just couldn't understand.   
"Not in front of Viktor." His mother whispered under her breath. And it wasn't because she was afraid of his father, Viktor thought. But his mother often did that to oppose against her husband, and yet keep him calm and easy. 

/Darya Nikiforov was sweet that way, and until this day, Viktor thought he'd never find a soul as gentle and loving as her./ 

"Why the hell not? Rubbish, let the kill know." Then, his father grabbed hold of his small frame with two thick hands against his little shoulders. Basically forcing him to stare at the seemingly happy couple in the TV. Viktor could see her mother's anger and concern right through her warm, brown eyes, but he reassured with a smile over his shoulder that everything was okay.  
"See Viktor? These things, these things are dangerous. They carry diseases, they are rapists. You simply cannot trust them, do you understand?" Viktor wanted to reply with a question, he really wanted. /but if they are dangerous, why do they look so happy?/ But he decided nodding was the smartest thing.  
It didn't feel like much at the moment, but he knew that specific couple and his father's specific words would follow him until the end of time.  
He was right.  
Training became difficult with the same words going through his head in an endless loop.  
Is that what I'm becoming? Will I be a rapist too? Am I dangerous? He started feeling like that shadow should be feared even by himself. 

And if that wasn't enough weight on his shoulders, September 22th of 2002 proved him that life could always get worse.  
He remembered with clarity that day, even the smallest and dumbest details felt painfully fresh in his memory.  
Like certain smells, certain songs, certain people. It was all ruined for him and was just a constant reminder of tragedy.

It was 12 PM in the evening, the sound of the blade sliding against the ice was the only thing filling the silent and empty ice ring. It was just him, and he particularly preferred it that way.  
The door slammed open, Yakov was standing in the doorframe and it didn't take long for Viktor to know that something was wrong. His coach always told him that he had to have his permission to practice, that he wanted to be present in every training process and Viktor knew that this was a reason to have Yakov scream his tired lungs out to him.  
But he didn't, he just stared. With a look of sympathy and compassion, an unusual face for his always distressed coach. 

/and Viktor swore that Yakov's eyes were red and irritated, but it could just be his memory messing up stuff./

"I'm sorry kid." The phrase made something inside Viktor's stomach drop, he would've fallen if he hadn't been out of the ring already taking the skating shoes off. It could mean many things, but Viktor was good guessing.  
But this time, oh this time, he prayed to God; 'let me be wrong, please let me be wrong.'

Darya Nikiforov was a talented figure skater, actually, the best on femenine selection, and Alexei Nikiforov was her always companion. Viktor knew that they had left to Japan earlier that morning. And he wished he had said goodbye one more time, he wished he had kissed his mother's cheek before she left.  
It felt surreal, he couldn't wait for someone to tell him that it was a joke.  
Now Darya and Alexei continued their love story, somewhere in the East Sea. And Darya was now dancing for the stars every night, where she belonged.  
Viktor just wished it could have been less painful.  
He thought he'd never get over the pain, but Yakov taught him how to concentrate his pain in skating.  
Take your broken heart and make it art, that motto kept him going for years. But he would be lying if he said that a tear or two never abandoned him during a competition, when he wondered if Darya would be proud.  
It would be selfish to say that his parents' death was beneficial, but it was the perfect excuse to stop thinking about himself. It was the perfect excuse to start drinking a 15, too. 

Viktor was 16 when he met his first love, and God that he felt relief. It felt like life had given him back everything he'd lost, like a compensation.  
His name was Nikolai, and Viktor didn't know his last name, but it somehow didn't matter back then.  
They met in an alley, in one of the places Viktor knew he shouldn't go and in the places where Viktor got his cigarettes and liquor.  
 It was a group of kids, actually. None of them was older than 19, they all had their stories and one of them knew his ways to get stuff for the guys. Good or bad, Viktor had found friends.  
Viktor wasn't sure of exactly when he started feeling this way for Niko, and it was rather subtle at the beginning. Like staring for minutes without him noticing and wondering why Nikolai's nose was slightly less tough in comparison to the other guys', or noticing the small dots of green his brown eyes had, and the way they looked against the sunlight.  
He realized he liked Nikolai, and suddenly things got 10 times more difficult. 

Viktor arrived to the reunion point earlier that evening, still sweating from the run he gave to escape Yakov and training. He found that the rest weren't even there yet, just Nikolai, sitting as chill as always with a cigarette hanging from his thin lips.  
"Aren't the guys coming?" He asked quietly, attempting to climb the roof clumsily. He hadn't really told anyone, but he hated playing tough. And that included climbing that hell.  
"Nah man." Nikolai asked, voice coarse and thick, thicker, probably because of the bad cold. He didn't seem to worry much anyways.  
"Why's that?" Viktor took seat next to the older boy, taking a sip from the bottle of Vodka that laid beside them.  
"I dunno, the assholes didn't even mind telling me." He looked angry, /angrier/, than he usually was. Viktor was in an uncomfortable situation, either stay to get kicked by the boy he jacked off to or go back to get scolded by his trainer.  
"I..,I better get going. My coach is waiting for me anyways." A spike of anxiety hit him as soon as the words left his mouth. Because it was worth mentioning that, in contrast to the rest of the fucking world, the guys didn't know about ice skater Viktor Nikiforov. "My football coach, I mean."  
The plain expression in Nikolai's face broke, into a laugh that was both confusing as terrifying to Viktor. He was screwed. "Quit pretending, Nikiforov. I wanted to say something but I figured you would end up telling us yourself." While Nikolai laughed, Viktor was in awe. Lost in words beneath his growing anxiety and the need to run away.  
"But..I thought.." Viktor babbled.  
"They don't have access to communication and media, I own a car with a radio." Finally, the long lasting laugh finally died down. Leaving as aftermath a, rather charming, smirk across the older teen's face. "Yeez Vic, you look pale like a corpse, I won't tell anyone."  
For a moment, Victor damned himself for the blush that he anticipated covering his face.  
"Thank you." They let their talk die for a brief second, and Viktor found himself just staring blankly at the person right next to him. Pleased with the surprise that he was staring too.  
"I want to tell you a secret too, I think it's only fair."  
Nikolai didn't need to tell it, because Viktor recognized the nervousness and ragged voice. The anxiety behind revealing something you aren't quite sure of yourself.   
/me too./  
And then, nothing else really mattered. 

Nikolai's house wasn't impressive at all, but he had one, something the rest of their squad couldn't quite share.  
But at the moment, any concern about the odd smell of the mattress and the dead bugs on the floor faded when he felt the same delicious pair of lips fall against his neck again. Viktor closed his eyes, breathing sharply through his nostrils out of embarrassment and his own rising arousal. His hands clawed at Nikolai's naked back, his every sense on edge as he felt the other's hips grind against his own.  
...  
He wasn't sure of how late it really was, but the sun was already down. A pitch of guilt hit at his stomach in the thought of Yakov turning Russia upside down trying to find him. Maybe he should get back now.  
Nikolai switched in his sleep, mumbling something barely audible and wrapping both arms around Viktor's frame.  
Yep, he definitely didn't feel like leaving.  
But he definitely didn't feel like sleeping either, and Nikolai seemed to tired and waking him up would result just cruel. But this left Viktor to his own thoughts, something he had been avoiding for a very long time.  
But it was necessary.  
/I'm sorry that I'm not what you wanted me to be; But I'm not a rapist, I don't carry any disease, I try to not hurt anybody. But most importantly, I'm happy./

**Author's Note:**

> I named Victor's parents how I fucking wanted, yeah, sue me.


End file.
